


ya'aburnee

by iphido



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Manga Spoilers, Relationship Study, Timeskip, a pinch of kagehina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:27:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24212095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iphido/pseuds/iphido
Summary: ya’aburnee(Arabic): literally “you bury me,” a term of endearment expressing the desire to die before a loved one, rather than live without themIt was a cool spring evening. Kageyama Tobio sat on the steps outside of a Lawson’s in Ebisu. His mind was miles away.
Relationships: Kageyama Miwa & Kageyama Tobio, Kageyama Tobio & Kageyama Kazuyo
Comments: 12
Kudos: 119





	ya'aburnee

**Author's Note:**

> set in 2017, after kageyama has joined the schweiden adlers.

It was a cool spring evening. Kageyama Tobio sat on the steps outside of a Lawson’s in Ebisu, phone to his ear. A duffle bag lay against his side. He ignored the quick but curious glances people gave him as they passed by.

He wasn’t sure what compelled him to call his sister. It was probably a combination of things. He hadn’t played very well in practice today and twice nearly caught himself snapping at Ushijima-san. He was missing Hinata a little more too. Bright, lithe Hinata on the other side of the globe right now, getting stronger and more golden. Earlier in the gym, as he’d chugged water trying to calm himself down, he’d been hit with a longing for his friend so fierce that it left him winded.

There was another thing. Seven years ago, his grandfather left this world.

The dial tone trilled once, twice, five times before Miwa picked up. “Tobio? Sorry, I just got off the train.” In the background were the sounds of people speaking, trains whizzing by, rapid footsteps against concrete. “What’s up?”

“You’re heading back to your place? In Shibuya?” He prayed she didn’t have plans for other company.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’ll be there in maybe ten minutes.”

“I’m coming over.” He made to stand, grabbing the strap of his bag.

“Wait! Pick up some milk bread from Seven-Eleven. I’ve had a craving all day.”

“I’m right next to a Lawson’s.”

“Nope. Seven-Eleven or don’t bother coming.”

“What’s the difference,” he grumbled before hanging up with a curt “bye.” Still, he made his way towards Shibuya. There were Seven-Elevens all over Tokyo, and he could choose any one of them.

Fifteen minutes later he stood in front of Miwa’s apartment with a bag of milk bread and a six-pack of Sapporo. His sister opened the door. Her hair was different; it was shorter, only reaching about two centimeters below her shoulders, and the tips were electric pink. “Your hair’s different,” Tobio said.

Miwa smiled, stepping aside for him to enter. “Want to match? You’d get a family discount.”

He toed his shoes off and set his duffel down in the genkan and rolled his eyes. “Pink isn’t my color.”

“Or we could dye it half-gold, half-white. You can fight Adloo for the mascot position.” She snagged the plastic bag and six-pack from him, making her way to the kitchen.

“I don’t want all my hair to fall out, thanks.” He shuffled to the dining table—it was closer to a TV tray with how tiny it was—and slumped into a chair. Miwa scuttled about the kitchen. Metal and porcelain clinked together. She was humming quietly, some tune from her youth Tobio barely remembered.

He stared at nothing, lost in his own thoughts until a plate appeared in front of him. The spiced scent of curry filled his nose and his mouth watered. He looked half-gratefully, half-questioningly at Miwa.

“I bought some mix the other day,” she said, sitting across from him. “Maybe I had a feeling you’d drop by soon.”

Tobio dipped his head in acknowledgment. “ _Itadakimasu_ ,” he said. Miwa echoed his sentiment, and they both dug in. It was delicious. At the end of their meal, his body felt replenished, though his mind still wandered.

They settled on the couch after that. Miwa nursed a beer and painted her toenails a pearlescent pink at the same time. Tobio thought it was rather inefficient, but then again he didn’t know anything about painting toenails. Her laptop was on the coffee table, playing a YouTube video on haircutting techniques. The trick, you see, was to lift the hair perpendicular to the scalp and cut, so it cascaded naturally into layers. The room smelled like chemicals and yeast. Tobio was miles away.

“What’s on your mind?”

He looked over. His sister was resting her head on her knee. She stared at him sidelong and patient. “You’ve always been such a quiet boy, Tobio,” Miwa murmured. She raised a hand and brushed his fringe back with gentle fingers.

“Kazuyo-kun,” he said finally. After all these years, it still hurt to even _think_ his name. Tobio wished he could remember his grandfather without remembering the bad as well. Why did his childlike wonder have to be paired with adolescent despair? He couldn’t picture the days walking home from the gym with Kazuyo without his thoughts drifting to the days sitting in that cold hospital room. In both memories, he held his grandfather’s hand.

“Ah. Me too, this week.” Miwa withdrew her hand. “I’m sorry, Tobio.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. People always said that after someone passed away. He’d seen it in TV shows. “What are you telling me those empty words for.”

She sent him a sharp look. “Not like that. You think I don’t know how it feels to hear that? I loved him too.”

There was a lump the size of a volleyball in his throat. Sometimes he forgot, honestly, that someone knew and loved Kazuyo as much as he had, and that someone was his sister. But back then it’d been hard not to see Miwa’s departure from volleyball as a betrayal. “I know,” he managed to say.

“I meant…” She sighed. Her eyes were sad. “I failed you. I’m sorry, Tobio.”

Failed him? He screwed up his brows in confusion. “But Kazuyo-kun was already sick. There was nothing we could do.”

“After. I came back for the funeral and left. I left you alone in that big empty house.”

Images flashed in his mind’s eye. A note on the counter: _Be back the Saturday after next._ Rows of prepackaged bento. Sitting alone at the dining table, eating yakisoba straight from the fridge because all food turned to dirt in his mouth anyway, hot or cold. An empty seat in front of him. His warped reflection in the dark television screen.

Tobio’s chest ached. By far those were the grayest days of his life. That big empty house. In his third year of middle school, he’d taken to sleeping in the living room just to hear the sounds of straggling cars passing on the street.

“Maybe I would’ve done the same, in your place,” he choked out. “It’s not like you could have packed up and left your whole life.”

“No. I really could have,” she insisted. Her eyes, the same blue as his, welled with tears. “But I left my baby brother behind because I was selfish. I hated being where Kazuyo used to be and feeling his absence, but mostly I hated not seeing our parents be there for you.”

Her voice had turned sour. Tobio had not spoken to their parents in about eight months. Miwa had not spoken to them in even longer. Their mother called him after he returned from Rio, wishing him congratulations. _You make me proud_ , she had said. His father grunted his assent. They were in Osaka for work and could not make the trip to meet him. _Thank you_ , Tobio had said, and nothing else.

He didn’t need them. He had not needed them since he was thirteen, raw and angry as an open wound. It’d taken a persistent redhead and a dozen crows to mend him.

“I can’t forgive them for that, or everything else,” Miwa wiped angry tears from her face. “But if it’s not too much to ask, can you forgive me, Tobio?”

His answer was immediate. “It’s not too much. It’s nothing at all.” His sister’s worries were unfounded. Never, not once, had he ever blamed her for leaving. The rare occasions she was home the same time as their parents, almost every night ended in a shouting match and slammed doors. She felt every ache as deeply as him, yet Miwa had always been braver.

“Can I hug you?”

Miwa always asked first. Tobio did not hug many people, nor did he hug often. The Adlers clapped him on the back, high-fived him, or grasped his forearm. Embraces were reserved for Miwa, his once-and-always team from Karasuno, and small children at his matches. He’d run into Tanaka-san two months ago at Sendai Station and was blessed with shocked, boisterous laughter and a squeeze around his torso.

Tobio nodded. Miwa slid her legs out and angled her body towards his. She scooted closer and wrapped her arms around him. He did the same. Miwa’s arms were the first arms he remembered. They held each other on the couch for a long time.

Another memory, one of his earliest: reaching up for his sister with both hands. She popped her gum and smiled. “Tobio wants to hug nee-chan? Come here, you.” Her arms were warm. Kazuyo-kun was near.

“I love you, Tobio.”

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much if you’ve made it this far!! **disclaimer:** i do not speak arabic. if i’m not mistaken, the title of this fic is a phrase often told by parents to their children [[1][](http://www.aer-translations.ch/yaaburnee/)[2](https://www.rattle.com/yaaburnee-by-zeina-hashem-beck/)]. i liked the idea of inverting its connotation, where it’s a child thinking about their parent figure. once again thank you for reading ^^ please leave a comment if you liked it


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